To Be Happy
by SilverDoe93
Summary: While on the road with Cruella and Ursula, Rumplestiltskin is left to reflect on his own fears, traumas and motivations.


Three hours later and the car still smelled like greasy chicken. Rumplestiltskin sighed. Neither of the women in the front paid any attention to him. Ursula had put in earphones and was listening to an i-pod. She rested her head on the seat, staring out of the window. Cruella drove with one hand on the wheel and her other arm draped across the open window.

With another, softer sigh, Rumple shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable. It wasn't easy. Absolutely nothing about this car, from the fuzzy red seats to Cruella's maniacal driving, resembled comfort.

"You could always try slouching a tad more," said Cruella suddenly, watching him in the rearview mirror. When he just looked at her, she added, "You know, actually lean into the seat; I hear it does wonders for one's comfort."

"Thank you but I don't need advice on how to be comfortable," snapped Rumple, automatically sitting up a little straighter.

Cruella smirked at him through the mirror. "Of course you don't, darling."

Annoyed, Rumple looked away from her. He shifted again, and then closed his eyes – partially as an attempt to help himself relax more and partially to block out the sight of the road wavering in front of them.

In just a few hours they'd reach Storybrooke. Just a few hours and he'd be back. And, from that point, it would only be a matter of time before he found the author and, finally, gained the ability to be happy – to live happily ever after.

The edges of his lips twitched in a tiny smirk that vanished as the memory of his banishment suddenly flashed unbidden through his mind. The memory was so vivid, so raw, that it still hurt, even six weeks later.

The scene replayed itself in his memory. It took over each time it arose; he couldn't force himself to block it out. He'd tried, so many times. Instead, he relived every painful moment. His knees scraped against the cold, hard road as he moved his hands, trying to feel a way forward. His vision blurred; his eyes and throat stung.

"Belle," he whispered, staring ahead across the now invisible town line. He couldn't see or hear her. Bowing his head, he wondered if she was there still – on the other side, watching him – or if she'd left. Was he calling out to an empty night?

But then, over the sound of the wind and his own crying, he heard footsteps. "Belle?" He whispered again and looked up. Someone walked toward him from the direction of Storybrooke, but it wasn't Belle.

It was Baelfire.

"Bae." Rumple stared up at his son in shock. His heart beat rapidly. "Baelfire, you – you're here."

To his chagrin, his son looked irritated. He stopped a few feet away from Rumple and shook his head. "How many times do we have to do this? It's not Baelfire anymore; my name is Neal."

"Neal, of course," Rumple tried to stand, but his bad leg crumpled beneath his weight. "You're alive. You're here. That's what matters."

"Is it?" The accusation in Neal's voice made Rumple flinch. "I wonder - were you ever really happy that you found me?"

"What?" Rumple's voice broke. He breathed in shakily. "How can you ask that? Of course I was. I spent centuries trying to find you, Bae – Neal."

"You sure didn't act like it." Neal looked down at his father with disgust in his eyes. "I think you want your young son back – you were never satisfied with me. But you know, you _are_ the one who did this to me."

Rumple felt more tears sting his eyes and slip down his cheeks. "No – no, I – I love you, my boy – I do." He attempted to stand again, making it halfway to his feet. He stretched out a hand to Neal. "Please – please…"

Neal surveyed his father for a moment and then, shaking his head, turned and walked away. He called back over his shoulder, "I can't help you, Papa. I'm dead."

"Bae! Neal – Baelfire – Wait! Don't leave me!"

"Rumple?"

The voice came from behind him. He started to twist around, but the movement upset his balance; he fell back to the ground. Gentle hands caught his arms. Carefully, caringly, the newcomer helped him to stand. Belle held onto his arm, steadying him. Her eyes flickered anxiously over him. "Rumple, are you okay?"

"F-fine," he clutched at her arms. "Belle – you came back."

"Came back?" Belle looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"You left…" Rumple stared into her confused eyes. He whispered, "You left me." Another tear crawled down his cheek. He shook his head as though to clear it. He curled his fingers around Belle's arm, gently sliding them up to her shoulders. "I thought… I was afraid you didn't love me – anymore…."

"Rumple," Belle smiled and moved closer to him. "You don't understand. That's not the point."

He blinked at her. "It's not?"

"No," Belle shook her head, still smiling. "It's not about love. Don't you get it?"

She took a step back and met his eyes. "You're a coward, Rumplestiltskin. And, isn't it obvious? No woman wants to be married to a coward."

She said it matter-of-factly. Rumple's hands slipped off her shoulders. He stared into her eyes in shock, startled to see contempt in them. She turned her head, looking away.

"Belle…"

"Keep the teacup, Rumple. It's chipped," her gaze darted to his crippled leg. "Just like you."

Rumple's leg wobbled. He looked down to find that he gripped the small, blue teacup that had been a symbol of their love. When he lifted his eyes, Belle was gone.

"No!" He cried out, in a mixture of desperation and anger. "You can't leave me! You all – I don't – I don't want to be left alone! Again! With nothing but a – a _chipped cup!_" He lifted his arm, raising the cup above his head, prepared to send it crashing to the ground. Then, once again, someone interrupted him. Rumplestiltskin froze in place as a red-headed witch slowly circled him.

"Well, well, Dark One. Looks like you're not doing so well." A smirk played across Zelena's face as she lifted her eyebrows at him. "You've lost everything – except your power." Her eyes lingered on the object he held in his hand.

Rumplestiltskin lowered his arm; instead of a teacup, he now held the dagger. His name glinted on the surface. His own eyes stayed on it as he spoke to the witch. "You should leave."

"Oh, don't worry about me." Although he wasn't looking at her, Rumple thought he could hear her grinning. "I'm not going to hurt anyone you care about – I won't have to. You're doing a fine job taking care of that yourself."

Rumple tightened his grip on the dagger. "The only person I'm going to hurt," his head snapped up, and he glared at her, "is you."

He launched himself forward, stabbing with the dagger. He practically tackled her; she collapsed, and he landed on top of her, the dagger firmly embedded in her chest. The sound of her laughter echoed in the air as her body changed, growing smaller, becoming someone else. Rumplestiltskin stared down in horror. His breath caught in his throat. His hands trembled as they released the dagger. His whole body shook. He reached out, his breath now coming out in shudders as he gently touched the dying face of his thirteen year old son.

"No… No. NO!"

Something jerked underneath him. Rumple's arm slammed into something hard and wooden. He opened his eyes. Cruella glared at him through the rearview mirror.

"Don't do that!" She nearly yelled at him. Ursula had sat up straight, tugging her earbuds out of her ears. She turned in her seat to study Rumple.

He glanced to his right. It seemed when Cruella had jerked the car, he'd slid sideways into his cane. Rubbing his shoulder, he glared back at her. "Don't do what? Can't you stay on one side of the road?"

"Ohhh, don't start," she snapped. "Your shout nearly gave me a heart attack."

"What were you dreaming about?" asked Ursula, eyeing him.

"Nothing," he murmured, checking to make sure his breathing was under control. He could feel his heart racing.

Cruella snorted. "Right, darling."

"How long was I asleep?" He asked, changing the subject.

Rolling her eyes at Ursula, Cruella replied, "About an hour. Speaking of which, how about an update on the directions, darling?"

"Yes, how much farther?" asked Ursula.

Rumple stared straight ahead out the front windshield at the road signs flashing by. "Just keep driving north. We'll be there in a few hours."

He brushed aside the memory of his dream as he pulled a well-creased map out of his coat pocket. He focused his mind on it, on his plan, not allowing anything else to interfere.

_Not far now. _


End file.
